Vicious Dream
by SammieeJay
Summary: Jane feels as of she's drowning in her own feelings and when everything gets too much, she needs the help and support of one of the only people she trusts with her life.


So,_ this is my first Rizzles fanfic...I'm not sure what this chapter suggests to a reader; but the later chapters shouldn't be as...gloomy. Well, not all. Let me know what you guys think! I am in love with quotes, and I thought the one at the beginning song this chapter fitted perfectly. :)_

**_"Jane feels as of she's drowning in her own feelings and when everything gets too much, she needs the help and support of one of the only people she trusts with her life."_**

On another note...Rizzoli and Isles seasons four starts tonight! ***squealing***

_Oh, I'm babbling...anyway, here is the chapter. __**Enjoy**__ :)_

_Sammiee. Xx_

**_Vicious dreams_**

**_"I don't paint dreams or nightmares, I paint my own reality." _**

_His fingers curl around her neck, pressing, and closing. Her mouth falls open, a strangled scream leaving her. The hands continue to squeeze, stopping her breath short. She tries to pry the fingers away, but she is slowly losing conscious. Her face begins to turn into a sickening colour as her sights start to close in on her, fading around the edges. She feels life slipping away. Her heart, once quickly beating, is now slowing in tempo. Her hands that tried to pry his fingers off are weakened._

_They fall to her side as the energy escapes her. She's choking. She's hacking. Gasps of crimson remorse bubble from her sinking throat; plummeting into his depths. She's snatched up by his hands; the gracious fingers of surf who once stroked her cheeks in softly flowing cobalt tides, now cruel and wrenching claws. She's going under - losing breath, her sight no more. Her screams-they cease. And peace-it reigns again on his sparked surface. That crystal window of water, a somber sky reflects in her. A gentle flock of pallid birds glide on wisps of comforted wind._

_Drowning, the chilly waters, call to her. Like smooth black velvet, wrapping her in a wonderful shield that heals her wounds and mutilated scars, only leaving her with liquid tranquillity. A tranquil, turquoise serenity once was and now is; again. She's drowned and he can't save her. For he - he pulled her under. She drifts through life; wraith to all she passes. A scrawny, skeletal form; an emaciated cadaver. Unknown and unseen. Barely even there...Must they be so blind? Her throat; once sweet and mortal - once filled with flowing air now reeks of death and crimson tears - the very blood of slaughter. It's hardened, blackened...dead._

_A silent spatter of crescent tears sprinkle upon the wandering sea of murky raven waves with glints of Heaven painted pain enveloped in the sightless crests of the night's eternal ennui; its distant waterfall of dusk._

_Her heart? Her heart is a withered blossom, once teeming with love and hope. It was a gleaming source of claret soul, sweetened dew of faith upon its petals; now desiccated and inert curled in shrunken carcasses; no longer that beating beauty. Her skin -it sags in dismal flaps now, the dreary, swarthy, bloodless flesh no longer filled with life acting now as merely an insufficient blanket - for the agony it hides._

_A single bead of wistful jewel carved with blades of wailing ash leak down the sheen of opal flesh in viscous, moonbeam streams of indigo mascara rays; a shaft of flickered gloss from slaughtered twilight long illumined by lethal sunlit slashes._

_Death is but a slumber, of tormenting and vicious dreams – for the likes of him at least. Of drifting into razorblade clouds ablaze with devil wings; beads of glowing sour dew dripping from Hell in the cerise blush of evensong to paint the black eclipse. Hues of ardent drizzle seeping through the emerald sky on luminescence's deep sea petals, curled in azure waves of tinsel for all eternity. Where he has been sent, there are stormy, whispered secrets. The astir will never hear of forever lustrous twilight dissolving into nothing. He will rot, and as she delves more into her thoughts, she enjoys the idea excessively. All the years of torment; of humiliation...of sheer audacity and pure evil- he deserves all he gets. An enduring fleck of cerulean sorrow, a gilded globe of celestial remorse seeps down the silver-splashed lips that are attached to the gleaming flurried cheeks; adorned with fluttered sparkle blush of lucent seraph's stardust._

_She is underwater. Not literally; just emotionally. She can feel the pressure crushing her body as she sinks deeper. It is a downward spiral, going deeper and deeper until she can't get out. It feels like a giant pitfall that continues forever downward. The further she falls, the further redemption seems to be from her grasp. She tries, oh hell, she tries. And she's almost there. However, 'almost' only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, and it taunts her. Always near, and yet always so far. And as it taunts her, she sinks deeper and deeper; drowning. Her legs are feeble, impotent...her miserable form writhing in pitiable squalor. Could she even be considered a 'human' at this stage? Of courses not! Or at least... not to him. For, how could he -If he thought she was- treat her with such apathy, such bitter, indifferent glances to a being in such pain...?_

_So now, he is gliding through her shadows, wafting through the dusky winds...not making but a sound, but she knows that he's there. He is always there in one way or another. Whether it be mentally, physically, illusions, hallucinations...he's always there clawing at the back of her mind._

_She wanders around aimlessly now, with no purpose other than to prove to that he's gone; an un-dead creature of the night, for what demon needs to breathe? And what monster needs a heart? None. For monsters do not feel. Monsters do not breathe, and that is what he is. It is what he was; a monster._

_She's silent, when really she is screaming, wailing with such ache. Her eerie cries pierce through the dark; yearning for someone-just someone-to hear...she long for her family to help - or someone, at the least. But more than anything, she wants them to support her, to comfort her. She wants their arms around her and their reassuring words of wisdom, however cliché at times._

_She just wanted Maura. She always just wanted Maura because, she was her solid ground. She was reliable, lovable, honest(however, sometimes a unnecessarily and annoyingly), beautiful in every essence, and she, to Jane, was perfect. And she loved her. _

_But her words are voiceless, and without a voice - how could they hear her moans? For wraiths - they remain as wordless corpses' - they are dead- they are unheard. Just like his soul, and her words - dead, and unheard._

She jolted up, her eyes filled with terror. Slowly reaching out, she touched her face to be assured it was only a dream. under her fingers brushed across her forehead, she realised that she had broken out in a cold sweat; now shaking fiercely in fear. Noticing it was 5am,she grabbed her phone from her bedside table, and opened a blank message.

**_To: Maura (Dr. Maura Isles)_**

**_Message: Hey, Maura. Are you awake yet? Jogging seems like a good plan right about now._**

Hesitantly, she hovered her finger over the '_send_' button, before she gave up the battle and pressed the button, watching the tick of or sent appear. So, with a sigh, she collapsed back into her cave of pillows.

Let me know if I should continue :)


End file.
